


Flying High

by Namigati



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: M/M, PWP, Shameless Smut, Smut, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-28 01:13:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2713490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Namigati/pseuds/Namigati
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles and Erik are finally reunited after 10 years of separation and there is obvious tension. Logan makes a good suggestion for a solution to their frustrations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flying High

**Author's Note:**

> Charles and Erik join the mile high club and I hate myself. This is trash, I am trash and I'm so sorry. Enjoy your smut, you perverts.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t enjoy the arguing, but can you shut the fuck up?” Logan growls at them, obviously in no mood to endure anymore of their quiet passive-aggressive bickering. Charles frowns and turns his body even more away from Erik, crossing his arms and pouting, giving acquiescence to Logan’s request.

For his part, Erik glares right back at Logan from his seat on the jet across from Charles and wrings his hands in agitation. The tighter he twists, the harder his elbows dig into his thighs.

Apparently this isn’t enough for Logan, who scowls at the air as he shifts to get comfortable in his seat. “Why don’t you guys just go make out in the bathroom or something so I can get some sleep?” He sounds affronted that they haven’t done it of their own accord.

Charles shoots up from his seat, shock and irritation etched on his face. He glowers at both men before scooting by Erik and stomping away from them, muttering incoherently to himself.

Erik stands after Charles, stubbornly chasing after, all the way into the jet’s private bathroom, and closing the door behind them, grabbing Charles by the arm. “Hey, we weren’t finished—”

Ripping his arm away from Erik’s grasp, Charles whirls around, slightly impeded by the restroom’s space. “Yes we are, I don’t want to talk anymore.” His voice is dripping with more contempt than he feels, and his face feels tight from his scowling for so long. “I’m done, Erik.”

“Well, I’m not!” Erik is not livid, but he is worked up and distressed. Charles hasn’t seen him like this in a long time. He grabs Charles’ arm again, this time without protest. “Charles…”

Being this close to Erik is surreal; it’s strange, yet familiar, and Charles isn’t sure if he likes how his heart races and his stomach feels lighter. He doesn’t yank himself from Erik, he doesn’t object or move, and a small part of him is anxious about the reasoning behind it. He feels, rather than sees the dark look on Erik’s face and his and Erik’s body rush together in the same moment, crashing and clutching on to one another desperately. Their mouths lock and for a moment, Charles swears he stops breathing, but then Erik’s hands are around his waist and his hands are fisting Erik’s sweater, and he can no longer think coherently.

When they pull apart, still clutching on to one another for dear life, as if one will disappear the moment they let go, Erik breathes heavily out through his nose. He gazes in wonder at Charles as if he is lost, steely grey-blue eyes fixed on the telepath. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

For a moment, Charles is paralyzed by these words, uttered so gently that he can’t even be too sure they were truly said. He pushes Erik away, getting the start of a complaint, which dies on Erik’s tongue the moment Charles drops to his knees, shoving Erik backwards onto the countertop. With shaky hands, he unbuckles the belt, not even bothering to pull it off, just letting it hang, metallic buckle jingling against Erik’s thigh. The button proves to be a more worthy adversary and Charles actually swears under his breath before he finally gets it open. The jeans’ zipper is a lot more compliant. Pulling down the waistbands of Erik’s pants and boxer briefs, Charles frees Erik’s half-hard erection with a sigh of relief.

“Charles—”

Once more Erik can’t get a word in edge-wise, as Charles takes the cock into his mouth, desperately sucking it to full arousal. He listens to the beautiful symphony that is Erik’s soft gasping and moaning. It’s been a long time, far too long, he thinks as Erik’s hand tangles itself into his hair. Erik’s scent and taste haven’t changed a bit, the weight of his cock familiar, hot, and heavy in Charles’ mouth.

“Charles, you— _ah_ extraordinary specimen,” he murmurs, his fingers spreading and contracting, lightly curling in Charles’ locks. His voice is barely a whisper, but it roars in Charles’ ears.

Pulling his lips back to cover his teeth, Charles bobs his head more rapidly, taking Erik deeper. For him, there is nothing but the sound of his mouth smacking against skin and Erik’s groans, some muffled and others rumbling in Erik’s throat. Charles makes small humming noises and he can taste the precum beading at the tip and slides his tongue over it, using it to go faster. It’s salty and musky and it’s something he’s never particularly enjoyed, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss it. He pulls back a little, working his tongue over the head and with his hands, he reaches up and strokes the base of Erik’s cock, fingers brushing against the dark, coarse hair.

From the sounds Erik is beginning to make, Charles can tell he’s close, teetering around the edge. He tries to speak several times, each time being cut off by himself, his words wavering into moans. Finally, he chokes out a “Charles” and tugs lightly on Charles’ hair to indicate he wants it to stop.

Charles pulls his head back leaving a trail of spit connecting his puffy pink lips to Erik’s erection coated entirely in his saliva. His face is flushed and he’s out of breath, but he was so close to making Erik finish and he’s a tad annoyed he’s being halted.

“Come up here, I want to kiss you.” Erik motions upward, looking exhausted and horny, and Charles does as he’s told because Erik looks _so_ fucking hot and he’s about ready to attack with his mouth _anywhere_ he can reach at this point.

Standing up proves to be more challenging than Charles intended, the tightness in his pants constricting his movements. He groans as his own erection is slightly shifted against the fabric, a sound which turns into a soft whine when Erik reaches around to grab his ass and kiss him with a passionate intensity. His lips part and he breathes heavily as Erik’s tongue invades his mouth, wet and wandering. Without breaking their kisses, Erik unbuttons Charles’ pants and roughly shoves them to the floor with his underwear, freeing his hard-on. Little by little, they sink down to the floor together, Charles moving to straddle Erik. He reaches down between them, fisting their cocks together and aggressively sucks on Erik’s tongue.

Erik begins to shift and Charles realizes he’s groping around in his pockets for something. The unasked question is answered when he pulls out a tiny package of lubricant, which springs several other questions to Charles’ mind, who just ignores them, and hungrily goes back in for more kisses. Erik rips open the package and pours the liquid onto his fingers. Giving Charles’s backside a reassuring grope, he eases in one of his fingers.

Of course, it’s been ten years, most of which Charles has been paralyzed for, and he’s so incredibly tight and not quite used to the sensations that threaten to overwhelm him in even the smallest quantities. He twitches as Erik fingers him, wiggling fingers, adding them, stretching him. Very quickly, he realizes that he’s not going to be able to keep quiet; not with Erik’s fingers, and certainly not with Erik’s cock. Erik hushes him, bringing his head down and their lips together once more, silently telling Charles it’ll be alright.

As Erik slides into him, a raucous and rumbling moan is ripped from Charles’ throat, but it is absorbed by Erik’s hot, wet cavern. This allows Charles to practically scream in Erik’s mouth until he’s used to being filled again. He’s aware his beard continues to rub against Erik’s chin, and for a split second he loses himself and worries that it might irritate the skin, a silly little intimate concern that ten years ago he would have considered bringing up had he actually had any facial hair at the time, but is brought back to reality by Erik bucking, wordlessly telling him to move faster. Any unease is drained from his body and he resolves to treat this not as the intimate lovemaking they used to have, but as something along the lines of tension-resolving, or at the very least angry and explosive, sex. Had he been thinking clearly, he would have realized that their desperate carnal needs are being expressed through something more akin to make-up sex, but he can’t think at all, just feel. He feels Erik’s cock inside, feels Erik’s tongue, feels Erik’s need, feels Erik. He shivers, close to his breaking point, and grips Erik, afraid he’ll fall if he doesn’t.

One of Erik’s hands is at his back, fingers splayed in a comforting gesture, the other around his cock, pumping to push him over the edge. He can’t keep himself quiet, not even with kissing anymore, and he shoves his face into Erik’s shoulder, biting the fabric and feeling the tears stinging his eyes. Ten years. Almost 3700 nights. Each and every one spent questioning, thinking, pleading with any sort of power out there. Wondering if he could have done anything to keep Erik by his side, changed their paths for the better, done _anything_ differently. All of his pain, his agony, his loneliness, his days, his nights come crashing down as he rides Erik through the first orgasm he’s had in a decade, wailing into the sweater, clutching onto the back.

As he recovers, Erik is still fucking him, and he can do little more than moan weakly and claw ineffectually at Erik’s chest as he’s filled with Erik releasing. He’s a mess, sticky and sweaty, and filthy, but he feels _good_. His head clears up swiftly, and he offers a soft smile, previous ire ebbed away. Erik kisses the corner of his mouth and they both sigh, trying to catch their breaths.

“Charles—”

With a shake of his head, Charles stops him. “Clean up first. Then we’ll talk.”

Suppressing a chuckle, Erik nods, helping Charles ease off of him. “Okay.” They sit on the cramped floor of the bathroom together, pretending nothing is wrong, nothing is awkward. “Sounds good to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: The word document I originally typed this in was titled: "Charles is a Thirsty Hoe"  
> enjoy that thought. It's much better than the title I have now tbh.


End file.
